


The Hufflepuff Seeker

by orphan_account



Series: Hogwartsverse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Fluff, Hogwarts, M/M, Quidditch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 16:45:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1021024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester might be a little obsessed with the Hufflepuff seeker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hufflepuff Seeker

Dean Winchester was obsessed with the Hufflepuff seeker.

If he’d heard that, he would have argued against the word obsession. He might have offered up, instead, the word _concerned_. He would have said that he was only checking out the competition, and as one of the best Chasers in Gryffindor’s history as well as co-captain of the team, it would make sense for him to see what talent was on the other team.

His younger brother Sam, the Gryffindor keeper, would have pointed out that Hufflepuff was the only team Dean snuck into the stadium to see, and that the seeker was the only player he ever watched.

It started in his third year. The dark-haired boy on Hufflepuff was a year younger than him, and it was his first year on the team. He was short and, though not incredibly skinny, didn’t seem like much of a threat. Until he caught the Snitch in the first three minutes of the game.

Everyone was surprised, but Dean was absolutely stunned.

The next time they played, he told the Beaters, Jo and Ash, to aim for the kid. “Knock him out of the air if you have to, but at least give him something to do besides make us look like assholes,” he said. He wasn’t officially captain at that point, being a third year, but everyone seemed to follow his orders anyway.

His plan worked in the sense that it managed to delay the boy for a few more minutes. Still, he caught the Snitch in a little under seven minutes.

It drove Dean nuts. Hufflepuff wasn’t even good. Until that kid had joined the team, they’d been something like a joke. They didn’t have a decent keeper and made the Chasers switch out shifts in the goals, their Beaters hit themselves with their clubs more than they actually hit the Bludgers, and only one of their Chasers could actually throw the ball through the hoop. And yet they went on to win the House Cup, because of that one boy. From then on, it became Dean’s mission to beat him.

His name was Castiel Novak, Dean found out. He was the youngest of a huge family -- Michael, Gabriel, Lucifer, Raphael, Naomi and Uriel had already gone through Hogwarts, and Castiel was in school with Anna (a seventh year), Rachel (a fifth year), and Inias (a fourth year). He didn’t have too many friends, but was very close to two people: Balthazar and Meg, both Slytherins. It surprised Dean, as Castiel was quiet, awkward and had a strange sort of innocence to him, while Meg and Balthazar were almost exactly the opposite.

His favorite color was dark blue, he liked slow music and disliked the Weird Sisters, his favorite classes were Arithmacy and Study of Ancient Runes, he wasn’t very good at Divination but he liked the teacher, he chewed on his lip whenever he wrote and when he was nervous, he itched the tip of his nose, and his friends called him Cas.

Not that Dean was a stalker or anything. He was just a very keen observer.

Halfway through fourth year, Dean had taken to sneaking into the bleachers to watch the Hufflepuff practice.

“Your boyfriend’s back,” Kevin said as he flew by.

Cas had noticed, but hadn’t said anything. “Ignore him.”

“It’s just weird,” said Charlie. She peeked over at him and laughed. “Do you think he realizes we can see him?”

“Let’s not ruin this for him,” snickered Kevin.

Cas rolled his eyes.

“Seriously, though,” said Charlie. “We can make him stop doing this if it creeps you out.”

“I don’t care,” said Cas.

That wasn’t entirely true. The truth was, he played better knowing that Dean was there. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt a strange need to impress Dean. He flew faster, pushed himself harder, and often caught the Snitch quickly.

Little did he know that it went both ways. By fifth year, Dean had taken to scanning the bleachers for a pair of blue eyes hidden under a mess of dark hair. Sam observed that every time he didn’t see Cas in the bleachers, Dean’s shoulders would slump and he’d play clumsy, sometimes even dropping the Quaffle. Fortunately, Cas was usually in the stands, a yellow-and-black scarf wrapped tight around his neck, hands stuffed in mittens, shoulders hunched.

By fifth year, teams were tired of losing to Hufflepuff. A few days before Hufflepuff vs Slytherin, a Slytherin boy named Alastair cursed Cas with third-degree burns up his back and legs. Cas had to stay two weeks in the hospital wing and missed the match. Hufflepuff lost horribly, and secured Gryffindor and Syltherin in the finals.

The game was a heated one. Dean knocked Alastair off his broom three times in a row and “accidentally” game him a bloody nose. He also played magnificently, scoring over half of Gryffindor’s points and crushing Slytherin by a score of 350 - 80. His new seeker, a quick second year named Jessica, caught the Snitch after twenty minutes and the stands erupted into cheers. Cas couldn’t help joining in -- his bitterness was forgotten as he watched the team lift Dean on to their shoulders. He smiled to himself as he clapped.

There was a huge party in the Gryffindor common room that night. Cas knew by the tired, drawn faces in the classes the next day. Still, Dean seemed to have tons of energy. He grinned loudly and accepted high fives and glares with equal enthusiasm.

After classes, Cas was browsing through the library when he saw Dean. He was, strangely, alone. He had a few textbooks open and his brow was furrowed angrily as he looked through them.

Cas hesitated, but summed up all his courage and walked up to him.

“I just wanted to say,” he said quietly, “you did very well yesterday.”

Dean looked up and did a double take. His eyes went wide and he dropped his quill. “Uh -- yeah, thanks, man,” he said.

“You’re a very skilled Quidditch player,” said Cas.

“Not as skilled as you,” said Dean begrudingly. “We wouldn’t have had a chance if Alastair hadn’t taken you out. The way you fly, man -- I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It must be quite extraordinary, if it warrants you attending every Hufflepuff practice for the last few years,” Cas said conversationally.

Dean went red. “Yeah, well -- shut up.”

“Don’t worry,” said Cas. “It’s flattering.” He stood awkwardly for a second, and then said, “Well, I’d better be going.”

He took a few steps away when he heard “Wait!” and a crash. He turned around to see Dean on the floor.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Tripped,” said Dean, getting to his feet slowly. “I was just thinking, you’re good at, like, Herbology, right?”

“Yes, I suppose,” said Cas.

“Great,” said Dean, “because that class has been eating me alive. Look --” he motioned to the books “--I’ve been studying for hours and I still get monkshood and mandrake uses mixed up. I could really use some help.”

Cas paused and looked at him for a second. “I’d love to help,” he said.

And that was how he ended up spending the next two hours in the library with Dean.

From then on, they were friends. Dean would run to catch up with him in the hallways, or sit down next to him in class. They would go to Hogsmeade together and Dean would dare him to try Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans. They sat together in the Great Hall during meal times and Cas found himself being introduced to every single one of Dean’s friends.

By sixth year, they were talking for hours. Sometimes it was about their families, sometimes about people at their school, sometimes about music. They talked for quite a bit about Quidditch.

“Do you waiting at least ten minutes to catch the Snitch?” Dean asked after one match. “It’s embarrassing.”

“I would, but Jessica is quite good,” said Cas. “I don’t think I could risk it.”

Dean muttered something that sounded a bit like “fuck you”.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” said Cas.

“You’re ridiculous,” said Dean. He was quiet for a moment and said, “I heard scouts are gonna be coming this year.”

“Really,” said Cas neutrally. “From where?”

“Lots of pro teams. They’re looking for new recruits,” said Dean. He looked at Cas and smiled. “I’ll make you a deal. You make sure Hufflepuff’s in the finals, I’ll make sure Gryffindor’s in the finals, and we’ll give ’em a show, okay?”

Cas nodded. “All right.”

Making it to the finals was fairly easy -- Dean had the best squad he’d ever seen for Gryffindor, and Cas had picked up a few new recruits for Hufflepuff, including Beaters who could actually hit the Bludgers.

Sure enough, there were scouts in the stands. Dean spotted them immediately. They were the only spectators not standing up and cheering.

He lifted his broom. “Okay, give them hell,” he said to himself.

The match lasted five minutes.

“You’re fucking kidding me!” Dean yelled as Cas soared towards him, Snitch held triumphantly in his hands.

Still, it wasn’t an incredible loss. Dean had managed to score fifty points in the five minutes they’d been playing and he’d been having a pretty good game -- until it was cut short.

“You are fucking terrible!” he snapped at Cas after the game.

Cas shrugged.

They dropped off their brooms in their respective common rooms and walked back outside. They walked to the edge of the forest and sat down under a tree.

“It would be cool, though,” said Dean. “Getting on one of those teams.”

“Yes,” Cas agreed.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t do too much else with my life,” said Dean. He shot Cas a sideways grin. “Maybe we could be on the same team. I bet I’d appreciate your skills a hell of a lot more if I was the one benefiting from them.”

“You would ... really like that?” Cas asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Spending that amount of time with me,” said Cas.

Dean looked at him questioningly. “What are you talking about?”

“Once we get out of school,” said Cas. “You really ... you’d really want to see me? To be my friend?”

“Fuck yeah,” said Dean. “Is that even a question? What, did you think I was gonna get out of here and leave you behind? Am I really that shitty of a person?”

“You’re graduating next year,” said Cas. “I just assumed ...”

“What? That I’d take off? Seriously?” said Dean. “Me?”

“I suppose it does sound a bit absurd now.”

“It’s fucking nuts. What am I gonna do without you? I can’t even spending the rest of my life without seeing you.” Dean realized what he’d just said and went red. “I mean ... shit ... I just sort of ...”

Cas looked over at him, stammering and blushing. He grabbed the front of his robes and pulled him in and pressed their lips together.

At first, Dean went rigid with surprise. Then both his hands moved to cup Cas’s face and he pushed him against the tree and kissed him, lips hot and chapped. They moved in sync, Cas’s hands on Dean’s back, Dean’s fingers in Cas’s hair.

Dean kissed Cas’s cheeks and nose and jaw. Their bodies pressed together. Dean smelled like pine needles and cologne and he tasted like butterbeers and sunny mornings and Quidditch fields and falling asleep in Transfiguration. He was soft and Cas could sink into him like a pillow.

A wolf howled somewhere in the forest. The sky began to darken. But Cas and Dean stayed under the tree, pausing only for gulps of clean, crisp air. It felt like they could stay there forever.


End file.
